Jack White at Red Rocks, Full Review:

This is more of an epic tale than a review of a concert. I am going through things from the point of view a concert-goer would, not an exact rundown of each song, movement, and fact about the band. If you want that, go for an issue of Rolling Stone... if you can stomach that sort of thing... Who cares what a pretentious journalist who can only strum a few chords thinks anyway?

courtesy of http://jackwhiteiii.com/live-photos/

Standing in the soaking wet, the crowd that maxed out the capacity of the 9000-seat amphitheater cheered... or rather roared as one collective being at the end of grand finale. When the rain started, not a soul dared leave the venue, running for trash bags and anything else to repel the chilling rain. Others sat content and waited for the storm to pass over. Now, this was around an hour before the show even started, when it was easy to run out to your car, dig out that coat you threw in the back seat, and walk back up to your seat... but really, who wants that? From the time the doors opened at 6:30 on, no one knew what was going to happen.

The crowd was a lively bunch. Middle aged men with children, yuppies from CU Boulder, legitimate hippies, legitimate punks, average joes, musicians, artists... you name it, Jack draws it in. When the gates first opened, one could see the upper level walking past as they got in. I swear here and now that I saw a young Jack White run across the walk up there. Long scraggly dark hair, red T-shirt, red jeans... taken right off the back of  White Blood Cells. Meg White was there too!

http://jackwhiteiii.com/live-photos/

Don't start a riot now, I'm just talking about the polka dot bloused, striped pants woman sitting behind us! I think that was as outlandish as it got. However, left in right, you could see little touches going out to Jack and Third Man Records. A Tigers hat, Blue and Yellow plaid shirts, lightly striped pants and shirts. I myself made a special hat band with dark blue and black feathers I got from a bird that was trapped in my house. I collected what fell off and fashioned it onto a blue band I had previously made, added three yellow beads and a yellow tassel and called it good. Enough about me though. It was like a strange fairy tale to see the famed Bowler-Hat-And-Suit roadies. ("They do exist!')

http://jackwhiteiii.com/live-photos/

Loud hip-hop music played for the hour and a half before the show, I swear, getting louder and louder as time went on. People danced, talked, smoked, and drank. Then the rain came. With each cheer for the weather... came more rain. Big ole rain drops, pouring from the brim of your hat, soaking everyone and everything. Of course, being in a natural rock formation, water began collect somewhere in the creation and pour out of the protruding stone that was the theater walls. A show in its own right, everybody simultaneously turned to look at the waterfall. this went on for just long enough to create pools of water on the stage, but did not scare away the company. A big deal for the show was the fact that the tickets issued had and apparent typo that said: "Rain of Shine".

The theater was actually a very slow fill up. Things didn't reach full capacity until around after 9pm when Jack went on. The opener, Curtis Harding was excellent, starting at 8 o'clock. Although not exactly well received with the crowd (Oh, were we supposed to clap there?) I personally thought it was an awesome take on retro funk and Motown. They had a great 30 minutes of air time, however it is a shame that they were overshadowed by the headliner in such an unfortunate way. I would love to see them fly solo.

After Harding and his band got off at exactly 8:30, it took hours to get the stage set up... and by hours I mean 30 minutes of constant clock watching and "It's only been two minutes?!!?" That was when the rain started up once more, and did not relent until 30 minutes to the end of the set. But, the crowd still cheered with each pang of the stuff... which made it rain harder...

The storm let up for a few minutes while the Clockwork Roadies cleared Harding's instruments from the stage and began to reveal the sliver upright bass, the powerful powder blue drums, pianos, and most amusingly, the amps and monitor that displays the feed back from the guitars ("That exists too!"). At the same time, Red Rocks staff members and roadies alike enthusiastically mopped up the water that had began to pool around the outer edges of the stage. I didn't see until we were pushed back to our reserved seats that there was actually a shelter over the stage, and not just a skeleton for the lights.

Red Rocks

When first admitted, we sat right behind the roped off area, until Harding went on, and we bee-bopped back further... and further... then Jack went on... and we were pushed back further still... To our seats, about 3/4s of the way back from the stage. No problem, it was a fun ride people watching. After exploring the  whole place, I think I can honestly say, there was not an empty seat. The show was sold out after all... but even then, there were still people huddled in the sidelines, hanging out any place they could fit. On the way in, there were cars lining the road, people just sitting in lawn chairs, drinking beer. Tailgaters! I'm very sure that the place had passed max capacity.

Momentum and suspense was built to a maximum. Two men approached the microphone before Jack dared. The first was a roadie, and the second was another one of TMRs bowler hatted minions, the first thing to appear on the big screen. A very nice man who seemed genuinely interested in what he probably said every night before this: No Cameras! That was the main gist. And the group held true, and I think that at any given time, in the main crowd, there were no more that 10-15 phones visible at any given time. The crowd wanted it. Hell, they even cheered when this guy came on!

http://jackwhiteiii.com/live-photos/

It was another few restless minutes before the moment of truth, the moment I had been waiting two months for... when Jack White and his band took the stage. At this point, the crowd erupted, and the rain was forgotten, only to weasel its way back into the mind when the tunes stopped. High Ball Stepper wailed from the stage. In case you didn't know, this is my first concert, and the first siren that issued from the girls was deafening.

Although ecstatic and crazed, the audience were soaking wet, and the light breeze didn't help either. Many people (myself included) did not have even sweaters or shawls. Not that it would have helped, because the rain permeated everything that night. It was true that the freezing mass needed to be coaxed out of their icy skin. I myself was standing ridged and straight faced for the first 20 minutes, freezing in my jeans and crop top, trying to keep my knees from knocking. My partner in crime stood even more ridged next to me, fully dressed, fedora, sweater, and long sleeved shirt. Shivering.

And coax us he did. There were very many audience involvement tunes, the most notable being Hotel Yorba. I think that was where the ice cracked from every side, with dampened hearing, the drone of thousands of people, some probably tone deaf, some probably classically trained, belting out more than half of the beloved Stripes jam. Even though I couldn't work out a few of the lyrics, a smile still resulted.

http://jackwhiteiii.com/live-photos/

It didn't take Jack all that long to make himself at home, as one of the first things he did was strip off his shoes and socks... maybe for comfort, or maybe rockstars have leather shoes, I can't tell you which. I do think though that Jack and his boys... and girls... were truely into what was going on. The crowd was psyched to the max. Average joes, shmoes, and even bros rocked the house.

I was very surprised by the number of White Stripes songs that went down. Dead Leaves was the first, and second song of the set. I don't know why, but I was under the impression that he only played the Stripes during encores, or at the very end of the set. Alas, things went pretty much every other.

The set list goes as follows:
High Ball Stepper
Dead Leaves
Just One Drink
Hotel Yorba
Temporary Ground
Weep Themselves to Sleep
I Fought Piranhas
Same Boy
Top Yourself
Three Women
Blunderbuss
We're Going to be Friends
Alone in My Home
Screwdriver
Ball and Biscuit
Encore:
Icky Thump
Misirlou
Lazaretto
Fight For My Love
Steady, As She Goes
Suzy Lee
Seven Nation

Although not far form the original, We're Going to Be Friends was very heartfelt and brought the group in as one. Many hands were held, women wrapped in loving arms, and childhood memories reminisced. The softer side of the set was gently and touching. After the show, my boyfriend told me "I remember where I was the first time I heard every one of those songs played tonight. Where I was, who I was with. It was..." Then he makes a hand doodle gesture from his head. Memories.

http://jackwhiteiii.com/live-photos/

Of course, these soft tunes are traded out for their heavy, crowd igniting bits eventually.  

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Once the hard hitting, loud, in your face songs started up, something primal within came out. Around me, I saw men who appeared totally normal, and even dignified before the show started,  doubled over, screaming Jack's name. The guy was running around stage, jumping what, 3 feet in the air? The height of a small child? Repelling himself off the monitors, off the drummer's podium. And all we could do was sit there and bang our hands together and scream like apes. That was all you could do to stay warm too. Once the jam ends and you have no reason to keep rhythm, you remember that your body is wetter than a stray cat.

If anyone was feeling the crazed lunatic vibe of Rock and Roll... it had to have been Jack. The only time I, or the people around me, tore their eyes away from the main stage, or the big screen was to right yourself after some passersby stormed past you for whatever reason. Maybe because they had to abandon the show to take a leak, I don't know. Hell, my feet were numb from the shoes I was wearing, and I could barely stand to sit down after the band left the stage. I didn't know that was the end of the set, more so an intermission. Still, nobody left. Who would want to? Anyone whose anyone knows that Jack leaves everyone with Seven Nation... and I swear to you that he toyed with us on purpose. It was very subtle, but you could have sworn at any minute he would go into the Stripes stopper.

http://jackwhiteiii.com/live-photos/

After giving it some though, I'll tell anyone my favourite song from the night was Icky Thump. The first song of the encore. The tune had been on my mind like crazy, and when they started things out, I just cheered like the rest of them. "Don't strain things too much, or you'll end up singing like Brian Johnson." That wouldn't be too bad... I still didn't want to hurt my voice, so I kept it at a respectable "WOO!" However, when Jack sang out what is perhaps one of the White Stripes lyrics I treasure the most, I couldn't humour that notion any further. I found that little spot in my throat that could handle it, and just screamed bloody murder for the rest of the set. The only thing I hurt was my ears...

Of course, Lazaretto was another gem I waited the whole show to see. Even at the end of the set, deaf as hell... That wailing and screaming from that one guitar put my brain into melt down. It didn't hurt whatsoever, but it still felt as sharp and cold as if someone had stuck a razor blade directly in my lobe. Needless to say... It hurt so good.

http://jackwhiteiii.com/live-photos/

I will never forget the way things looked that night... I don't think anyone in attendance will. Someone I talked to described things as "moody". I don't think it could have been said better. The sight of the rain falling through the stage fog, turning every single cubic centimeter of water into a sapphire. The stage lights were terrific as well, taking the name sake of the venue the opposite way. Even the lights though could not cover every thing, and the vivid rust colour of the rocks still beat out the vivid blue of Man. the sky was a dirty, muddy brown, even at 11pm. In the distance, the orange sheen of city lights could be seen. You could see the water being beaten of the drums as well. With every powerful hit came a spray of diamonds that could be seen even up in the nosebleeds.

http://jackwhiteiii.com/live-photos/

Some might say that Jack white is God, but I think that this proves otherwise. Or maybe he did bring the rain, as with each lyric that contained that very word, a new downpour would rise. At one point, I just wanted to say "NO." No more rain. But, in a way, the freezing temperature, the sea of primal little monkeys, and the handicap of deafness added to the vibe. It was desperation. You could not stand there and not desire the music. It was hypnotic. Every trouble was gone at the first note. Was I cold? Were my feet numb? Thoughts like that didn't even penetrate the subconscious. It was about the music. Why didn't people run, why didn't Jack call of the show? Because of that one very thing. The music is more important than dry socks.

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30 minutes to lights out, it stopped. Jack went into Seven Nations, and the crowd reluctantly started clapping the rhythm. If you weren't singing that riff, you were desperately screaming. A sea of purple hands rose up, going from the huddled state the rain had left us in to some sort of tree. It was Rock at its finest. After the last note, last last last thing, the band bid us farewell.Then like a hidden bomb went off, the screams and cheers made a second deafening roar, and people flooded out the sides like a fat woman's girdle. I was under the impression that after a show, you stayed a bit, but I guess not.

We too filed out, until the voice that had been next to me all night said "You want to go down and check out the gear?" Well, I thought about it, but I felt like I needed Jacks permission or something to do so. Eh, what the hell? We wandered on over to where the bearded roadies were standing guard, carefully packing up shop. Being musicians (on some level) the both of us, it was an excellent treat. "Wow, look at his pedal board! In all of Rock and Roll, I have never admired any other board other than Jack White's, and David Gilmour's." My boyfriend has been playing guitar for about eight years, and I knew how much he was enjoying staring at that thing.

After getting an eyeful at the stage, I noticed a door that was for public use off to the side. Low and behold, it was the walkway that happened to be right up next to the loading dock! I wasn't actually all that interested in seeing Jack, but the notion was still cool, right? I just wanted to hang out and people watch. Someone covered in paint even walked by with an enormous blue canvas. I did get a peak at what it looked like. Eyes in the center, and a whole whirlwind of blue surrounding them. this guy must have been a regular painter at the place because most of the Red Rocks employees that were around chatted with him, and said "alright man, see you later."

It was all fun and interesting, not many people around. I even held my tongue when I heard on a guards radio "Alright, we are getting ready to take him out." Uh, Roger that, good sir! After a few minutes and an "Eww, what is this stuff?" I put my hand in, a girl came rushing down the ramp that lead out that doorway. I don't know if it was coincidental or what, but behind her were maybe five guards who showed up a minute later. As she ran down the ramp, she made a hard left to the open door that lead to the bowels of the place (and likely the band). "Do you know where Jack is?" in a high pitched voice was the first thing that came out of her mouth as she tried to weasel on past the guard who was contently sitting in a folding chair right in the middle of the thing.

Well, first off, who the hell does that? and secondly, the answer of "I don't know." actually means something! These guys are sworn to secrecy. Needless to say, it was at that point that the group of guards showed up and told everyone they needed to skedaddle on out over that way. Bummer man. "We need to go out the other entrance though, this way..." "Go ahead." saved us a fair bit of time from being lost... but if we went out the way directed, to the other parking lot, we might have gotten to see some action. It's alright though, wasn't meant to be. But really... Who does that? Dehumanizing the realest, most heartfelt musician on the scene.

If the time were 20 something odd years ago, I would use the term Groupie, but that has gained too much prestige... Ha! I mean, we just got done staring at him for two hours like a zoo exhibit, but whatever...